


The Beginning of Healing

by ikasashimi



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Idek where I was going with this tbh, Kind of a song fic? It's inspired by Cherry Wine, Mentions of past abuse, There are feelings involved in this, There are mentions of Mon-El but he doesn't make an appearance, lots of feelings, minor Alex/Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21803965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikasashimi/pseuds/ikasashimi
Summary: "This is Kara Danvers. She's new," she explains, and you hold your hand out for the woman to take. The stiff gesture seems to amuse her if the gleam of laughter in her eyes is any indication."Lena Luthor," she says with a gentle press of her hand against yours. You feel the calluses of her fingers brush against the soft skin of your palm and swallow at the jolt of electricity that buzzes beneath your skin. "It's always nice to see a new face around here. No place better than M'gaan's"OrKara Danvers finds herself in a pub on a flight of fancy and is immediately enraptured by their resident singer.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101





	The Beginning of Healing

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been sitting in my google drive for months and I haven't had the courage to really post it till today, especially cause it's a lot of firsts for me. First time writing and posting a fic in years, and it's my first time writing smut to name a few. Do forgive me if I have yet to work out the kinks in my writing! 
> 
> This came about from a conversation with one of my best friends, Netti about Irish pubs and Hozier. She has been urging me to write this for way too long and she actually managed to get this frustrated writer to come out of her decade long hibernation so thank her for this HAHA Playlist of this song is "Cherry Wine", "Take Me to Church" by Hozier, "I of the Storm" by Of Monsters and Men, and lastly, "From Eden" by Hozier! It appears in the fic in that order in case you're wondering. Also, I wrote this before Alex and Kelly were a thing and I haven't caught up much to see their chemistry which is why it's got minor Alex/Sam. 
> 
> Special thanks to Camille and Lee who have been the sweetest betas and test readers I've had! Couldn't have posted this without their encouragement too! All mistakes and errors are still mine though
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy!

The chime above the door tinkles, the sound echoing throughout the pub. The sun had just begun to set and you're in no rush to return to your empty apartment. You shrug off your cream coat, hanging it over your arm as you look over the pub interior. It's not one you've been to before, though you see it everyday on the way to work. You're not sure why, but something called at you to come in today. You walk past polished dark oak stools and tabletops, each showing signs of wear and tear but lovely all the same. At the bar, a woman wipes a glass, her crisp white blouse contrasting with her deep bronze skin. She glances over in your direction and moves up the bar to lean on the worn wood top.

"What can I get you?" she asks, pulling her hair into a bun as she flashes you a smile. You pause, words caught in your throat. You flounder to give a quick reply, glancing over unfamiliar bottles and grimacing over the ones you recognize. The bartender seems to notice.

"What about I whip you one of our specials and if it's not your cup of tea, it’s on me?" You breathe a sigh of relief.

"That would be great. Thanks," you say with a ginger smile. If she notices your awkwardness, she doesn't show it and instead flits about the bar pouring a shot of dark liquid into a glass and blending it with what looks like coffee and cream. She slides it over to you, spilling none of it over the wood, and watches you take it in your hands. It's quite cool and doesn't seem to smell too bitter so you take a tentative sip. The cream hits you first before the subtle hints of sweet, almost mocha tones coat your tongue. You blink owlishly, smiling for the first time today.

"It's really good! I can't taste the alcohol," you say, humming happily as you take another generous sip. You feel a hand press on your arm, pushing the glass away from you for a second. The bartender laughs as a crinkle forms between your brows.

"It might not seem like it, but it's strong. You might want to savor it slowly before you pass out," she warns, letting you go. Heat rises up to your cheeks and you pout.

"What makes you think I can't handle it?" Even to your own ears, you sound like a petulant child, but she takes it in stride, throwing a towel over her shoulder.

"I have a knack for these things, trust me. Name's M'gaan by the way. Just give me a shout if you need anything else." With a small wave, she goes about her business arranging cups and cleaning the bar. She's not wrong. Your track record with alcohol is something you'd rather not reminisce on but she doesn't need to know that.

You find yourself sitting there quietly, watching the light dance over the bottles on the shelf across you. Around you are mostly empty chairs and tables, with the exception of the brunette that sits at the far corner of the pub, nursing a cold pint of beer. In the silence you let your shoulders drop and the tension slowly bleeds away. The alcohol warms your stomach and it feels nice, almost comforting. Outside, the snow begins to come down in a flurry, twisting and coating ever passerby in frost. People in suits and heavy coats rush up and down the street, cars passing by in blinding streaks of light. Most of them have their noses tucked into their coats or their eyes on their phones, unaware of your wandering eyes. You muse whether they're running home to families and loved ones, or whether they're like you, hoping to find a place of respite from the cold that lingers despite the warmth.

Lost in your thoughts, you're surprised by the noise of conversation around you. Voices clamor over one another as groups of friends and stragglers like yourself begin to sit and gather around you. M'gaan greets a few of them and holds conversations. You hear only snippets, but you figure they're probably regulars if she's preparing their orders without them saying a thing. The ice clinks in your glass and you turn towards the drink nestled between your hands. You take small sips as dusk turns to night.

Lights come on in from the far end of the pub, and a small stage you'd missed is now illuminated in the brightness. It's bare save for a stool and microphone. You almost wave over M'gaan to ask what's happening when you feel your heart stop in your chest. It's almost as if your vision fades and focuses on the woman who takes sure steps up the stage. Pale almost alabaster skin glows in the lamplight, shining against dark ebony hair that cascades over her shoulders, her lips a dark red, her jawline as sharp as the clack of her heels against the wood. But what truly steals the breath from your lungs are the piercing jade eyes that glance over at the crowd and briefly land on you. In your stupor, you almost miss the words that come out of her mouth.

"Good evening, everyone. How's everyone doing tonight?" her smile is sharp, almost a smirk, as she gestures towards the crowd. Some patrons give muffled greetings in return.

"Good, because I've got a few songs I'd like to play tonight and I hope you're all sober enough to hear them." She pointedly looks at the brunette in the corner, who cheers loudly.

"It better be worth staying sober for!" she cries out in mock seriousness, pulling laughter from the audience. You wince at the jibe, but keep your attention on the raven haired goddess with the guitar. She sits on the stool, and for a split second your jaw drops at the vast expanse that are her legs. It's only when M'gaan throws you a knowing look that you snap your mouth shut and shake the thoughts out. It doesn't help much but it keeps you focused.

The first few gentle notes float out of her guitar, her fingers picking at the strings with practiced ease. You follow her fingers as they press against the frets, her eyes fluttering closed as the room seems to collectively hold their breath. The slightly raspy quality of her voice fills the room, and you unconsciously lean forward.

“The way he shows me I’m his and he’s mine, open hand or closed fist would be fine.”

The story she weaves with her words are an enigma wrapped in a romantic melody. If you weren't paying attention, it might have sounded like just another soft love song of longing and want, but there's more to it than you first expected. She croons over a figure who hurts her, but she loves anyway. She paints the strangest image of a relationship steeped in pain and violence. You're enraptured. When she opens her eyes at the last line, her eyes find yours and you lose yourself in the moment. You see something in her eyes that's almost familiar and feel dread sink into the pits of your stomach.

Thundering applause fills the room and the moment is broken. You watch her take the praise with confidence and poise, whatever you saw is now gone. M'gaan walks over to you, brow furrowed in concern and in the reflection of the glass behind her, you realize you're crying. Before she can say anything else, you down the rest of your drink and walk out.

______

It's another 3 days before you find yourself in front of the door of the pub again. Like last time, the sun has only begun to set and from the window you can see it's empty. You're not sure why your legs feel like lead or why you're standing here lost in thought, but you can't get those eyes out of your head or the soulful voice to leave your dreams. It's cold and the occasional person bumps into your back, but you're rooted to your spot. You have half a mind to turn back and walk straight home when a voice chimes in from behind you.

"You planning on going in?" You swear your soul leaves your body at that exact moment and a squeak escapes you. Laughter reaches your ears and you turn to find yourself standing face to face with the brunette from the other day. Her hands are stuck deep in her pockets, and she eyes you from under a large hat and scarf. But although her face is partially concealed from the cold, you can see the high cheekbones and the soft crinkles at the corner of her eyes that give away her grin. For a moment, you're reminded of someone else with red hair and the same shit eating grin. The brunette tilts her head, her hat sliding a little at the movement. You realize she's waiting for a response and clear your throat.

"I was thinking about it.", you reply softly, glancing at the door and back at the stranger. She shuffles her boots in the fresh snow, and you're hit with another pang of homesickness that rests beneath your ribs. She steps forward, encroaching on your space a little before she pushes the door, holding it open for you with a question in her eyes. You swallow and take the invitation, entering the warmth of the pub. She begins to remove her layers, revealing the soft brown sweater beneath and waves happily at M'gaan, who looks up at the sound of the bell. She bounds over quickly, and you follow at a more sedate pace, shrugging off your coat and holding it against your stomach. M'gaan is giving the woman an affectionate shake of her head, pouring her a glass of Guinness. You have half a mind to sit somewhere else, but she looks back towards you and pats the chair next to her. With nothing else, you sit by her side and keep your eyes on the etches in the dark wood. A glass slides into view and you look up to find M'gaan already going about her business. The same drink she offered you last time sits in the glass and you smile. The woman beside you takes a swig of her dark beer and you grimace. She shoots you a look and you open your mouth to apologize.

"Never enjoyed a stout before?" she asks, grinning. You shake your head mutely at that and she slides her drink over.

"You can try some if you'd like," she offers. Taking a drink from a stranger would normally have you up in arms, but M'gaan seems to trust this woman so you take the dark liquid in your hands and knock back a gulp. The response is instantaneous, you wince at the bitter taste and cough. You slide the drink back and take a few sips of your own drink to mask the taste. She seems to take this in stride though, an apologetic look in her eyes.

"Well, I guess that answers our question. Sorry, it's a bit of an acquired taste," she hands over a napkin, pointing at your lips. You take it gratefully, wiping off the cream that stuck to your upper lip in your haste to mask the taste of the beer. When you finish, she holds her hand out towards you.

"Samantha Arias, but you can call me Sam. I don't think I've seen you around here much before," she says as you take her hand in your own. Her grip is strong and an image of her in a corporate office shaking hands with business moguls crosses your mind.

"Kara Danvers," you offer with a small smile, "I don't go out much, so that might be why." Sam releases your hand, nodding as she takes another sip of her drink.

"You picked the best place to go to then," she says with an exaggerated sweep of her hand, "No place beats M'gaans!" You can't help the smile that overcomes your lips at her antics and M'gaan's sigh down the bar.

"Don't listen to Sam, she just wants more drinks on the house," M'gaan laughs. Sam gives her a sigh and presses her hand on her heart, looking very much affronted.

"M'gaan, I would never. You know I'm here for you and the ambiance." They bicker back and forth, and you watch from the sidelines. It's clear to you that they're very close with the way they easily throw barbs and jabs that hold no malice at one another. They occasionally turn to you, reigning you back into the conversation and while you don't offer much in words, you feel yourself relax in their presence. Your fingers itch in your pocket to reach for your phone and dial a number you haven't called in a while, but you hold it in for later.

As the night comes and more patrons enter the bar, the warmth in your stomach has grown to a pleasant buzz in your head. Sam continues to tell you stories, showing you photos of her daughter Ruby and you coo and hum in agreement where it's appropriate, but your eyes are constantly drawn to the dark stage.

"She'll be here later," Sam suddenly says, startling you for the second time today.

"W-what?"

"I can see you looking at the stage. She's performing in-" Sam pauses, checking the small pink watch on her wrist, one her daughter probably chose for her based on the design,"-about 2 minutes." You smile sheepishly, hands tracing the markings in the wood.

"Sorry." Sam waves off your apology and takes another swig from her 3rd glass of beer. "It's fine. Most people come here to see her perform anyway. I can introduce you to her later," she says, wiggling her eyebrows and you try to stammer out a response when the lights of the stage come alive once again. Sam slides off her stool, and takes your hand.

"Come on! We can move closer," she says, dragging you towards the front. You're helpless to resist and you both find yourself in the center of the pub, among a throng of other patrons. It's a little cramped, but you have to admit the view is much nicer.

Dust swirls in the light when the singer comes from behind the small curtain to the side. Today she's not in heels, but it doesn't stop her from strutting confidently on stage. Her hair is tied in a bun above her head, pristine without a hair out of place. She takes the microphone in her hands and smirks.

"Good evening, everyone! Thanks again for coming, I'm sure you're all getting tired of seeing my face," she says, lips just barely touching the mic.

"Damn right!" hollers Sam from your side, and you feel dozens of eyes peer in your direction but none send shivers down your spine like the gaze of the woman before you. She seems to pause for a moment longer, eyes widening a fraction in surprise to your presence, but she schools her features quickly and laughs along with the crowd.

"You don't count, Sam!" she says instead. She seats herself on the stool once more, and does another quick scan of the crowd. Her eyes linger on you, and you clutch your coat closer, unsure of what you've done to deserve her attention. At the strum of the guitar, she leans into the mic and begins to sing. Her voice engulfs you, and at the corner of your eye you can see Sam nodding her head along to the more upbeat melody. Her voice lingers on the vowels as she belts out the words, her eyes closed. It feels a little intimate, to hear her wax poetic over a love that deserves to be felt, to see her get lost in the music. Something tugs at your heartstrings and you entertain the idea of that kind of love, one that feels like it's worth sacrificing for.

The song ends too quickly, and you clap along with the crowd. She opens her eyes, a bright smile on her face before she leans over to fiddle with the small laptop at the corner of the stage. The movement causes a sliver of pale skin to peek from underneath her blouse, and you bite your lip to stop an embarrassing sound from leaving your lips. Sam stares at you for a second, and you turn to look at your phone, avoiding her gaze.

When her set ends, she gives the crowd one last beaming smile before she walks off the stage. You feel the urge to bolt out again when she beelines towards your table, but Sam's arm is already pulling you towards the object of your fascination.

"You were so good!" she cries out, enveloping her in a hug. From the sidelines, you're free to watch how the woman's cheeks go a light shade of pink, her laughter sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Her attention moves from Sam to you, and you're caught like a deer in headlights. Sam is quick to swoop in, already grinning ear to ear.

"This is Kara Danvers. She's new," she explains, and you hold your hand out for the woman to take. The stiff gesture seems to amuse her if the gleam of laughter in her eyes is any indication.

"Lena Luthor," she says with a gentle press of her hand against yours. You feel the calluses of her fingers brush against the soft skin of your palm and swallow at the jolt of electricity that buzzes beneath your skin. "It's always nice to see a new face around here. No place better than M'gaan's" she adds, dropping your joined hands. Sam wraps her arms around both your shoulders, steering you towards the bar.

"That's what I was telling her!"

______ 

For the first time in a long time, you're relaxed. The world around you is hazy in the evening glow and the alcohol that swirls in your system is doing wonders for your body. You've moved towards a booth at the corner, one Sam insists is the best in the pub. Lena laughs and you catch yourself smiling too. In the span of 3 hours, you've learned a lot about the beautiful woman. She's studying engineering at the university nearby, and at night she works here as a singer. Sam's been her friend since they were children and they were roommates before Sam had Ruby. You also learn about the tiny crinkle of her nose that appears when she laughs, and the way her laughter is as melodic as the songs she's sung. Her drink of choice is scotch on the rocks, the kind that smells like it could burn you from the inside out. Yet, she drinks it like it's water, cool and composed as always. The more she drinks, the more her vowels elongate and you wonder if maybe she'd lived somewhere else as a child. Her fingers are tactile, always pressing against something be it her glass or her arm. Sometimes you catch them gravitating towards you before she recoils them in a rush, as if she'd just realized it had been creeping on it's own.

Sam is sprawled out on the seat opposite you, leaving you and Lena to share the other half of the booth. When she goes on a tirade about how Lena should be performing for "bigger audiences out there”, Lena leans in to whisper conspiratorially that in truth, she has never shaken off the jitters of stage fright. It amazes you how she walks up on stage every night despite that. You tell her exactly that and the smile she gives you doesn't quite reach her eyes when she jokes: "It's not the worst thing I've had to endure."

"What about you, Kara? Are you seeing anyone?" Sam asks after her third pint of Guinness. You look at the glass in your hands, wondering what words you could say to summarize the ache you still feel in your chest.

"I'm actually still getting over a relationship," is what you offer instead. Lena watches you with understanding, her fingers graze over your hand.

"Sorry. You don't have to say anything," she whispers, warm and calm. You shake your head, a mirthless laugh bubbling up in your throat. You shove it down like you've always done, in the darkest parts of your heart where you can ignore it for as long as it takes.

"I'm sor-" you pause, jaw clenched. "Thank you. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it just yet," you say instead, entwining Lena's fingers in with yours. It keeps you grounded. Sam reaches for her phone, eyes scrunched at the bright screen.

"Shit. It's midnight. Looks like I have to go, ladies. I'll go grab a cab. See you tomorrow?" she clambers out of the seat, swaying a little with each step. Lena looks ready to follow when Sam waves her off, telling her to stay before she continues outside. None of you make a move to transfer to the seat Sam left, and you press your head against the cushion behind you.

"I should be getting home too…" you sigh, trailing off as you watch Lena stretch her arms above her head.

"But?" she asks, leaning closer into your space. It's completely unfair you think, how easily she can derail every thought in your head with a raise of her brow or a single word.

"I don't want to go home just yet," you admit, hands clenched in the fabric of your coat.

"Me neither." The two words come as a surprise. You tilt your head, watching a multitude of emotions swirl in her eyes. Some are uncomfortably familiar to you.

You slowly rise from the booth, donning your coat and Lena watches in confusion. You can't help the amused smile that stretches across your face at the crinkle in her brow. You offer your hand, palm up in invitation.

"Join me for a walk?" she stares at your hand for what feels like hours, and you begin to curl your fingers, apologies on the tip of your tongue. But warmth encloses your palm, and tension bleeds out of your frame when Lena offers you a shy smile. She slides out of the booth, following your steps out of the pub and into the cold snowy street.

The moon shines overhead, guiding other lost souls through the dark streets. The wind bites at your skin and the urge to push your hands deep in your pockets is tempting, but Lena has yet to release your fingers and you’re not ready to let go just yet.

Most of the stars are hidden behind a veil of clouds. On most days, you'd feel disappointed. Today, it doesn't bother you. Your focus is on the woman next to you who seems to glow in the moonlight, untouchable. It's strange to think that, when her shoulders are pressed against yours, fingers still entwined. You walk in comfortable silence, going home in the same general direction. In the silence, you glance at your phone. You might have been staring at it for too long as Lena gives you a soft nudge.

"Someone waiting for you at home?" she asks, a teasing lilt in her tone. You chuckle softly.

"No one at home. I was thinking about my sister," you whisper. Lena's hand twitches at that and she remains silent, waiting for you to continue. "We fought the last time we spoke, and I want to tell her I'm sorry," you huff in frustration at the prickling behind your eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn’t be ruining a perfectly good night. I should probably just go on ahead-" you ramble, pulling your hand away from Lena's in embarrassment. You feel a firm tug that keeps you in place.

"Don't apologize," she leans forward, and her other hand gently pries your clenched fist open.

"You're allowed to feel, Kara," she says, thumbs rubbing circles against your hands. Your eyes begin to water and you quickly blink away the tears that threaten to fall. You take a deep breath, taking in the crisp night air to fill the gaps in your lungs.

"Thank you, Lena," you say, squeezing her hands. "It's been a while since I've heard that."

"I'm known to occasionally give good advice," she teases, releasing one hand and pulling you forward. You continue to walk in silence for a little longer.

"Her name is Alex," you begin. Lena turns her attention to you, emerald eyes a beacon under the light of the streetlamps. "She's been my constant since her parents adopted me. We had a rocky start, but we've been inseparable since. She… she didn't like Mon-El, my ex. She told me that for years. When I told her I was moving in with him, we-" your lip trembles, remembering the tears and screaming. Alex's heartbroken expression when you lashed out at her. The sound of her frustration echoes in your mind.

_"You're just bottling it up inside and you're making bad decisions!"_

Slammed doors and a broken vase. Mon-El's disappointed sigh when you call him later that night, as he brushes you off again.

"-we got into our biggest fight yet." Lena stops, seeming to mull over her next words.

"Siblings are-" she gestures vaguely with her free hand "-complicated. No matter what we can't help but love them anyway. I don't know much about Alex, but I can tell she cares a lot about you. Call her. She might just surprise you." You hear her let out a soft squeak when you pull her close, wrapping her in a quick hug. You release her just as quickly, cheeks pink from things other than the wind.

"I'm really glad I met you, Lena." 

______

You don't get much sleep that night, tossing and turning. Lena's words continue to bounce around your skull. When the first rays of light began to peak through the blinds you give up on sleep and pad across the cold hardwood floors of your apartment. Most of it is bare, save for the boxes of things you haven't had the heart to send back. The walls of your hallway are cracked in some places, hastily repaired between fits of anger that were far too close together. You sigh at the sight of tape on your bathroom mirror, and get dressed slowly. Getting ready is mechanical and you're drifting in your thoughts, surprised to find that you're already in the kitchen. Grabbing a bowl and some cereal, you chew in relative silence, glancing at your phone every few seconds. The dark screen stares back at you mockingly, and with shaky fingers you take it and dial a number you've known by heart for years.

"Kara?" comes the voice of your sister, muffled over the line but it fills your heart with a wave of emotion you can no longer contain.

"I'm sorry," is all you manage to get out before you're sobbing again, breaths coming in short bursts. Her voice is a soothing balm to your erratic heart, and you feel like you're 13-years-old again hiding with her under the covers of your childhood bed. You're both a mess at the end of a long string of apologies and regrets, and it's cathartic. Just like that, she's back in your life as if she's never left. You tell her all about the pub, about M'gaan and Sam, and you're in the middle of gushing over Lena when you hear her laugh cut through the line.

"You've got it bad, Kara"

"What, she's a good singer. She's talented and pretty and-"

"and gorgeous, and good, and you're so _smitten_ ," she says and you swear you can hear her grinning. You splutter for a few seconds before she takes pity and cuts you off.

"I'm sure she's wonderful, Kara. Maybe I'll take you up on your offer and meet her myself," you huff, inflating your cheeks.

"Maybe I’ll just take it back and never bring you with me!"

"Then I'll find a way to go on my own," she quickly rebuts, and you've got to admit she's got you there.

"I've missed this, Alex," you whisper instead. It's quiet on the other end of the line, and you're not sure if you hear a sniffle but Alex's voice comes back a little thicker than earlier.

"Me too, Kara. Me too."

______

There's no hesitation the next time you approach the pub after weeks of coming here after work. You enter the warm interior with a practiced ease, and M'gaan, as always, greets you with a smile and a glass of your usual. She looks over your shoulder to give Alex a warm smile.

"And who's this, Kara? Haven't seen her before." she asks, already grabbing another glass. Alex takes the stool next to you.

"Alex Danvers. I'm Kara's sister." If M'gaan is surprised, she doesn’t show it, and instead grabs a shot of whisky on the rocks. Alex looks at it in surprise, but takes it gratefully.

"Kara mentioned you were a whisky kind of girl," she says with a wink and Alex looks over at you, eyebrow raised.

"What else did she say about me?" you give her a grin as Sam slides in the conversation, her arms wrapping around you both.

"Only the best things," she answers, giving Alex her trademark grin. For the first time since middle school, you watch Alex's cheeks go red and her mouth open and close with no words. Sam is giving her an appraising look. You wonder if you can slide out of her embrace before they notice.

"Sam Arias. Kara didn't mention her sister was cute. ", Sam says casually, and you can see the moment Alex loses all brain function. You give her a sharp kick under the bar, and she snaps back into the conversation, taking Sam's offered hand.

"Alex. Kara didn't mention that you were breathtaking. I think all she talked about was Lena.", she says, and you desperately hope the floor swallows you whole because Sam has redirected her attention towards you. They're both grinning and with an exaggerated sigh you swivel away from them on the stool and walk towards the table. Their laughter follows you and while your cheeks are warm, it doesn't match the warmth that envelops your heart at hearing your sister happy. If your dignity is the price, you'll gladly pay it.

It's a quiet night tonight. Unsurprising given that it's the middle of the week. Sam and Alex are in the middle of a muttered conversation next to you, leaving you to mull in relative silence. The stage lights are on, illuminating the dark interior. Yet, Lena is nowhere to be seen. Glancing at your watch, you note it's later than her usual shows. She might be caught in the flurry of snow outside, but unease settles in your stomach. You mention it to Sam, a dark shadow seemingly flits across her eyes before she smiles at you and tells you it happens occasionally. Alex pulls her back into conversation and your hand taps against the tabletop.

You almost believe she won't make it tonight when you hear the telltale sound of heels on the wooden flooring. She steps up on the stage, giving a soft wave to the few people in attendance. The unease rears its ugly head and you can immediately tell something's off. Her hair, normally pristine in appearance despite the winds, is a little more unruly. Her eyes are dull, and although she smiles and greets the crowd as she normally does, you can tell her mind is elsewhere. Her lips are chapped and pink, almost as if she had bitten it one too many times. The worst of all though is the tiny mark you can see peeking out from the collar of her blouse, hastily hidden. In the harsh light, it's hard to tell the exact colour or hue, but it sickens you all the same. You can feel yourself tune out, white noise filling your senses. It's difficult to say how long you've tuned out because by the time you can hear again Lena's raspy voice has flooded the room.

"And it echoes when I breathe. Until all you see is my ghost," she croons into the mic, her guitar filling in the gaps between her words. The words plant ice in your heart, almost as if you were still standing in the snow outside. Her songs have been heartbreaking before, about love found and lost so it leaves you reeling why this one in particular seems to hit so close to home. A song about bowing before the might of a storm, of regret and fear that refuses to thaw. Her voice fades into the applause of the audience, and you can tell she's not truly listening.

When her set ends, she doesn't approach your group. Instead, she begins to gather her things in a rush, eyes glued to her hands. You’re out of your seat before Sam can stop you and she doesn’t push when you shrug off her hand. Alex is quietly whispering to her, asking her about what’s happening no doubt. You ignore them both and reach Lena’s side. Her hands are shaking as she puts sheets of notes and music back in her bag. Steadying her hand in your own, you give her a moment.

“Wanna get out of here?” She nods, hands shaking a little less in your grasp. You take them and tug her towards the exit. Alex and Sam send concerned looks your way that you ignore in favor of making sure Lena’s alright. 

Stepping out into the white streets clears your head a little, though it does little for your companion. Her eyes are distracted, her hands holding yours tight with a trust that you won’t lead her astray. The crunch of ice beneath your shoes accompany your thoughts. You won’t bring up the bruise you can see just barely peeking from beneath the fabric of her top. The cloudy sky hide the glow of stars, and you wonder if it’s a sign of what’s to come. You come to a stop at the park from that night. At the pause, Lena seems to come to and realize where you are. Tugging her gently, you both sit on an empty bench in silence. 

“Remember when I told you I was getting over a relationship?” you whisper into the night, breath forming puffs of white. Lena looks over at you, nodding her head. 

“Truth is I’ve been getting over that relationship for years. His name was Mon-El. We’ve been- or well, we were together since high school,” a humorless laugh,” I used to convince myself that he was worth it after all those years. It had to mean something right? It didn’t matter that Alex thought he was horrible for me, that he would never let me live my life or that I’d slowly realized how he made me feel small and weak. I told myself that he was a good guy deep down, that he cared. He never hit me, so it had to count for something. I mean, it was tough, but… aren’t all relationships?” You pause, looking at the clouds slowly pass by. 

The sound of doors slamming resound in your mind, echoing against the sobs that wracked your chest. Cutting words, meant to tear you down, make their way into your consciousness. Lena's hand takes your hand in hers and the comforting swipe of her thumb against the top of your hand keeps your thoughts from spiraling. You smile at the gesture, despite the prickling behind your eyelids. Even when she was clearly hurting, she still reached out to make sure you were okay. 

“He-he used to tell me I was lucky that he stuck with me all that time. I believed it, because I thought he knew me. The day Alex and I fought over moving in with him, she kept telling me to leave him. She took my phone and was going to dial his number. I lost it.”, you tell her, losing yourself in the green of her eyes. 

“I told Alex that I wouldn’t leave and she couldn’t make that decision for me. It sounds irrational now but I screamed and told her she was being just like him. That was the breaking point for her… so she left,” you let a shuddering breath leave your lungs. Taking both of Lena’s hands in your own, you give her a look of understanding. 

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but I’m here to listen if you want or need to talk because I care about you. I just want you safe.” Lena flinches, but her hand remains in yours. You play with her fingers, keeping your gaze level with hers. She looks away, almost as if she can’t handle the intensity of the moment and opens her mouth. She swallows and opens her mouth more than once, as if she can’t seem to push the words past her lips. Screwing her eyes shut, she holds on tighter.

“My brother,” she begins, voice cracking. She releases your hand, putting distance between you both and wraps it around her torso. You wonder if she’s trying to physically hold what’s left of her together. 

“He was my rock, my safe place. Like you, I was adopted, by the Luthors. I was only four back then, and the only family I had, was gone. The Luthors aren’t warm or affectionate, and I used to envy other kids whose mothers and fathers would tuck them in bed or wrap them in an embrace because I didn’t have that. Lex knew that, and he used to remind me that I was loved,” her hands match the shaking of her voice, “He was the reason I fell in love with science, that's why I wanted to study engineering. I thought that, even if my parents didn’t love me, it didn’t matter because he did. We were family. But-” a sob escapes her, and when her body shudders with the emotions she’s held against her chest, you can’t help but pull her into an embrace. She presses her nose against your neck, taking gulping breaths between the tears that run freely from her eyes. It leaves a wet patch against your top and you could care less about the mess when this woman who you’ve become close to is falling apart in your arms. 

“B-but after our father passed, he became closed off. I knew he was under pressure to follow in his footsteps so I shrugged it off. But the more our mother pushed, the worse it became. He would never lash out at her, it was unbecoming of a Luthor. Behind closed doors though, he would rant and rave to me. I thought it showed how much he trusted me, until one day he turned that anger at me…” She grabs the fabric of your top, bunching it between her fingers. You run your own fingers through her hair, soothing her. 

“I should hate him!” she exclaims wetly against your skin.

“But you can’t,” you whisper against her hair. She nods. 

“I _hate_ myself for it. I know it’s wrong, but he’s my brother! Even when he hurts me, I can’t forget the Lex that held me when I had nightmares or the boy who told me I was worth loving. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I could have done something. Maybe I could have stopped this,” You rock her slowly, fingers never ceasing their movements.

“You’re allowed to feel, Lena. But know this, what he does is not in your control. You’ve been through terrible things and yet you’re one of the kindest people I know. None of this is your fault. It’s complicated and it’s a terrible situation to be in, so if you need me, I’m here for you,” you tell her, holding her tight in the hopes that maybe the words will get through to her. She’s quiet for a bit.

“How’d you get out?” she asks so quietly, you’d almost missed it if not for the warmth of her breath. You pause, a furrow in your brow. 

It wasn’t one ‘Aha!’ moment. It took me years to really _see_ that what he was doing was wrong. It took people like Alex, showing me I was worth more than that. I was alone for a lot of the relationship, so I had to deal with this on my own and I don’t want that for you. The choice to leave is ultimately yours, but I can help you get there if you want it,” you pull away a little to look her in the eye, hand caressing the soft skin of her cheek. Your thumb wipes away a few more tears, and she presses into your hand. 

“Maybe we should get some ice for your shoulder before anything else,” you offer with a smile, slowly pulling her up to stand. Hand in hand, you walk together out of the park.

______

Your apartment is much closer than Lena’s, and you’re sure you have some ice and a first aid kit somewhere. It’s a short walk all in all, and in hardly any time you’re standing in front of your apartment door. With a flush on your cheeks, you turn the key in the lock.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I’m still working on it,” you say with a quick sweep of your hands. Lena walks in slowly, eyes grazing over the few frames you put up after Mon-El left. Most are of you and Alex at various ages, and some are of you with your foster parents. There is one that stands out on the photos framed above your fireplace. In an old wooden frame, worn over time and the number of times you’ve held it, is a photo of your birth parents. They’re smiling at the camera in front of your old house. The edges of the photo are slightly singed, but it was the only photo you managed to save. 

“They look like wonderful people,” she says, a finger tracing the frame. 

“They would have liked you,” you say in reply from the kitchen, wrapping some ice in a small towel. She comes towards you, sitting on a stool. Her eyes follow your movements when you come to her side to press the bundle on her bruise. The skin is a dark purple and blue, and you barely contain a wince for how painful it must be. She flinches at the cold press, but her shoulder relaxes beneath your touch. You could let her hold the ice pack herself, but something about doing this one thing for her seems more important. It makes the moment seem more intimate.

“Thank you, Kara.” She says with a tired smile. She presses her weight into you a little more, your height difference much more evident while she’s seated. 

“No need to thank me.” She shakes her head, looking up at you. 

“Not just for this. For listening and for,” she pauses, searching for words. “For making me feel like my feelings are valid and there isn’t something wrong with me.” You leave the ice on the counter, watching the liquid pool on the marble surface. Your hands find her chin, applying the gentlest of pressure to tilt it up. Jade meets cerulean, and you focus on the bright specks of her irises. 

“Lena Luthor, you are valid. Your feelings are valid. What your brother did is on him, not on you,” it might have seemed a little strange for you to say, but it gets your point across. Lena blinks up owlishly at you, moisture gathering at the corner of her eyes. She takes your face in her hands, pressing your foreheads together. Your hair forms a curtain around you both, sheltering you from the outside world. Your hands press over hers and this close you can feel the warmth of her breath across your lips and cheeks. She says nothing with words yet the press of her fingers on your skin and the shuddering breaths she takes speaks volumes.

______

It becomes routine for you over weeks. You walk home from work, pass by M’gaan’s for a quick drink, alcoholic or otherwise, watch Lena pour her heart out on stage and walk home together to your apartment. Sam and Alex make jabs about how long it’ll be before someone decides to move in, and you throw peanuts at them until they concede with grins. You expect the butterflies in your stomach to fade over time, for the infatuation to become nothing more than a distant memory. 

Oh, how wrong you are. 

The weeks only prove worse for your poor heart that seems to compete with itself in how fast it can beat in her presence. The more time you spend with her laughing over the silliest of things in your apartment, or watching her discover a love for disney she was denied as a child, the more those feelings of infatuation take root and grow into something bigger, something you’re scared to name. This is one such moment. 

Lena is in a soft sweater and leggings, something she seems to wear more often in your presence. Her face is split into a grin, her laughter filling up the little nooks and crannies of your heart. She’s seated next to you on the sofa, head leaning against your shoulder. You’re watching _Brother Bear_ for the hundredth time in your life. For Lena, it’s her first time watching. By the time the brothers make up and the end credits roll, you hear a quiet sniffling from beside you. You wrap an arm around her wordlessly, pulling her closer under the blanket. 

“Do you think people can change?” she asks when the screen goes dark. You sigh, fingers moving to play with her hair as has become a habit. 

“I like to think so. I think anyone can change for better or for worse. It’s just that we have to make a choice whether we want to be the person we see in the mirror or if we want to take a different path,” you answer. She hums in agreement. 

“My therapist said something similar,” she says, fingers playing with the edges of her sleeves. 

“That’s good! So it’s been going well?” you ask, fingers pausing. 

“It has. I’ll be honest, it’s been a process. But, we talked about me getting out of our old home and I think I just might. I just haven’t found a place yet,” she whispers the last bit, sitting up. You can see her nerves and feel a swell of pride for how far she’s come. 

“Why don’t you move here?” you blurt out. Her eyes widen and you’re immediately backtracking in embarrassment. 

“I-I mean you’re always here and you’ve slept over a few times. Plus it’s not a bad place and you know me! I don’t want you to be pressured or anything cause you can make your own decisions! You’re a strong independent woman and you-” you cut yourself off, cheeks aflame. She’s hiding her lips behind her hand, eyes glowing with mirth. You pout, huffing. 

“You let me ramble again,” you whine. She laughs out loud this time, her hand gripped against her side. You keep a scowl on your face for dramatic effect. Although the moment she presses a quick kiss against the crinkle between your brows, you’re a goner. The facade is broken and you’re laughing alongside her. When it dies down, you take her hand in yours again.

“I said that in the heat of the moment, I’ll admit. But I meant every word, Lena. You could make this your home too.” Lena takes a moment to blink at you again, and before you know it you’re enveloped in a hug that sends you tumbling onto the floor, sprawled on the carpet. 

“I would love that.”

______

That’s how you wind up lifting heavy boxes on your day off. Dusting off your hands, you examine the mess of what was once your living room. Lena’s things are strewn all over the apartment, packed in boxes and crates of various sizes. She comes in pink faced with little hairs sticking to her forehead, and it makes your heart flutter softly in your chest. She puts the box she’s carrying on a chair and lets out a groan. 

“Thank god we’re finally done!” she exhales, planting herself on the only free space of the sofa. You laugh at her pout, taking your place on the floor by her feet. 

“You insisted on doing this ourselves!”, you throw at her, leaning against the sofa. You have to shuffle a few loose leaves of paper aside to sit properly, and one of them catches your eye.

“New song? Can I hear it?” you ask, pointing at the sheet in question. Lena seems to hesitate for a moment before clambering over the sofa to grab her guitar. She plucks a few strings, humming a little under her breath before she begins. It starts off upbeat, and she goes on about longing for a love. Her fingers dancing over the frets, and her voice that same raspy quality you love. As she gets to the chorus, her eyes shift from the strings to you.

“Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago. Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword. Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me I should know. I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door,” she belts, keeping her gaze on you. The back of your neck warms and by the end of the song your throat is a little dry. 

“What’d you think?” she asks, fingers playing with the strings a little. 

“It’s beautiful,” you rasp out. “It reminds me a little of the first song I heard you sing.” She hums in thought.

“It’s not the same though,” she says after a pause. You quirk an eyebrow. 

“I know,” you say, pressing a hand against her thigh. “Is it about Lex?” After she’d told you about her brother, you’d realized a number of her songs are influenced by that. When she feels like it, she tells you the stories behind the words on the pages of her notebook. 

“It was at first,” she quietly answers, startling you from your thoughts.

“At first?” She swallows again, fingers moving over the frets. They sound isn’t as clear as it normally is, and you rub at the skin of her thigh.

“You don’t ha-” you begin to say before her voice cuts you off.

“It’s about me and you,” she blurts out. You almost ask her what she said, almost ask her if she’s feeling okay. The confusion must be plain to see on your face because she stands from the sofa.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll just go. ” 

“Lena, wait!” you cry out, scrambling to your feet. She’s muttering to herself, walking over the boxes you’d just brought in and looking frazzled. You place a hand on the small of her back, noting how she jumps at the contact. 

“Lena, did you really just compare yourself to a snake?” is the first thing out of your mouth, and she laughs, loud and humorless. It reminds you a little of the day you told her about Mon-El. 

“Really, Kara? That’s what you had an issue with? How I wrote myself in the song?” her chest heaves with every breath she takes. You press your other hand against the other side of her waist, holding her steady. 

“I care because that’s not you at all,” you tell her with conviction burning in your veins. “You’re one of the greatest things to have ever happened in my life, whether you realize it or not. I wish I could show you just how beautiful you are in my eyes. Because you, Lena Luthor, are gorgeous and brave. You step on that stage every night, baring yourself to the world, open. Your heart has been beaten and bruised but still it beats with a love I can only hope to be worthy of. I have been enamoured with you since the day I heard you sing, and I have been falling slowly ever since.” Her lips are parted, tears streaming down her face. She reaches a hand up to cup your cheek, thumbing away the tears you didn’t realize were falling. 

“Kara Danvers, I love you and sometimes I don’t know if I deserve it. I’m still struggling and fighting because sometimes I feel like I’m never getting anywhere. But, all I need is one moment with you to want to _try_ and that’s one of the greatest gifts you’ve given me” she’s sobbing happily now, hands bringing your faces closer. 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you choke out, voice thick with tears. She responds with a soft press of her lips against yours, hands cradling your neck. It’s sticky and warm from the tears that continue to fall, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You press kisses against her nose, forehead and cheeks, whispering words of adoration. She laughs, kissing you back like you have all the time in the world. With a grin you realize you do, and you swoop in to lift her into your arms. She laughs as you carry her across a maze of boxes, cussing against her lips when you almost trip over one particularly difficult box. She laughs, eyes alight with a love you never imagined you’d be on the other end of. 

You make it past the threshold of your bedroom, and press her against the soft sheets. Her arms remain around your shoulders, keeping you close. It makes the shuffle up the bed a little awkward, and you’re both laughing softly when you settle your weight over her frame. Your leg finds it’s place between hers and you continue to pepper kisses over her pale skin, nipping gently on the freckles that dot her neck. She groans beneath you, and you’re about to pull away when her fingers slide into your hair, pulling you against her. With renewed purpose, you take the sensitive skin between your lips and teeth, leaving your mark on her flesh. Impatiently, she pulls you up to press her lips against yours once more, her own teeth nipping your lower lip. You part your lips, groaning at the feel of her tongue against yours. All sense of propriety is thrown out the window in the moment her hips jerk beneath yours. Pulling away, your chest heaves, fingers aching to explore the sliver of skin it’s found at the edge of her sweater. You pause, a question lingering in the air. She gives you a nod from hooded eyes, and your hands slide under her top. 

You push it up, stopping just beneath the swell of her breasts and stare at the expanse of skin beneath you. She wiggles under your gaze, a faint flush painting her cheeks and collarbone. 

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper again and again, lips tracing the valleys and dips of her body. Fingers skirt over her sides, and you can’t help but press loud kisses over the tiny swell of her belly. She laughs between her groans, lifting herself up on her forearms to look at you. Her eyes have grown much darker, likely a mirror of your own. With one final kiss on her skin, you help her pull the sweater over her head, throwing it and her bra behind you into the darkness of the room. Let this be a problem for future Kara.

You wonder how many times you’ll be stripped of your breath tonight. In the waning light of the sun, Lena’s skin is ethereal, almost glowing. Her chest rises and falls, watching you carefully. You drag your lips starting from the edges of her ribs, feeling the pitter-patter of her heart beating wildly. It’s torturously slow if her whines are anything to go by, but it’s well worth it when your lips wrap themselves around a pebbling nipple. She keens, chest rising to meet your mouth and you pin her down against the bed. Fingers dance around the other nipple as your lips are busy with the one in your mouth, tracing it over with your tongue. You lap it for a few seconds before sucking on it hard. She jerks upwards, body taut from the tension. It's almost like a game for your to see how far you can take her just with your mouth against her chest, moving from one breast to another.

"Kara!", she chastises, huffing in frustration. Your weight keeps her on the bed, unable to seek the friction she's craving and you give her another grin. Her kiss swollen lips are pouting in your direction and you're too weak to deny her anything.

You focus your attention downwards, moving with measured slowness towards the band of her leggings. She lifts her hips to help you move faster, and you chuckle.

"Someone's eager," you tease, pulling everything down in a few quick motions. Your own clothes follow soon after, discarded hastily in different parts of the room. Lena swiftly leans forward as you shrug off your top, hands finding their way down your back and over your chest. A moan escapes your lips and you press down against her thigh. She smirks, humming against your skin.

"Looks like someone else is eager, too." she says in an exaggerated tone. You growl playfully, tackling her against the bed. For a moment, you're both laughing and rolling about in the sheets. When the laughter dies, you relish at the feel of your skin against hers, the warmth of the day giving in to the dusk of an approaching night.

"I love you," you whisper, pressing a languid kiss against her navel. She reaches a hand out, seeking yours. Fingers intertwined, she smiles shakily at you.

"I love you too," she says simply as you raise her legs over your shoulders. You press more kisses against her thighs, teasing the sensitive skin and moving closer and closer to where she wants yet never touching. Grabbing a pillow, you prop her up and run your tongue flat against her center. Her grip on your hand tightens and you take it as encouragement to continue, tongue sliding between her lips. Your senses center on Lena, her tangy taste filling your mouth and you drink like a woman dying of thirst. Each swipe of your tongue brings out more and more, and when your nose hits a throbbing nub, you hear her moan out your name. It's an easy decision to take the nub between your lips and suck on it, tongue probing at it. With your free hand you slide a finger inside her from beneath your chin. Her answering clench has you rutting your hips against the bed. Her thighs wrap themselves tighter around you, muffling her moans and yet you still feel them vibrate throughout her body. You slide another finger without warning, curling it to hit that spot and Lena's gone. She cries out, hips moving against you on their own. You bring her down slowly, fingers only ceasing when she begins to whine from the overstimulation. Releasing her nub with a pop, you watch her catch her breath. With her hand still in yours, she pulls you up towards her, tears in her eyes. You kiss her, feeling her hum at the taste of herself on your tongue. When you pull apart, she gives you a breathy laugh.

"I'll return the favor when I can feel my legs again." you snuggle her against you, content to feel the warmth of her skin against yours.

"We have all night."

______

The morning sun greets you when you open your eyes. With slow blinks you glare at the open curtains, cursing yourself for forgetting to close them. The warm body at your side shifts. You glance down to find Lena curled up against your chest, arms pressed against you as soft snores fill the air between you. In this light, she looks young and unburdened. You push back a strand of hair, chucking as she mumbles in her sleep. In moments, her eyes crack open and she glares at you. Pressing her face further into your body, she grumbles sleepily. You press kisses against her hair, fingers skimming over her back until her breaths even out again.

You close your eyes as well, focusing on the soft sounds of her breathing as the world around you begins to rise. Here, under the sheets, you can take a moment away from the responsibilities and problems that are waiting just outside your door. Here, you can feel yourself drift away with a heart full of love for the woman next to you.

And maybe, it feels like the beginning of healing.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well that was a trip. 
> 
> Got thoughts? Questions? Non-violent reactions? Send it in a comment or you can find me on Twitter @bistillmyheart


End file.
